Today, the hostess, has she lost her studies?

Chapter 657 The Shackles of Evil (26) (Add more)

During that period of time, Mr. Shen kept having that same dream over and over again.

Atrocious crimes are everywhere, and there is biting and gnawing at each other everywhere.

The red blood all over the sky was like an invisible poison, silently permeating his reason and stimulating his brain.

He began to try to kill people in his dream, and began to try to see his hands covered with blood.

The sticky blood is cold and has no temperature.

Even his fingers seemed to be completely soaked in that icy temperature, which lingered forever.

He began to experience the thrill of killing, and he began to like such a cold and sticky temperature.

In the dream, he felt that he had found what he wanted.

The vague longing in his heart was gradually magnified, magnified, and magnified by his out-of-control rationality.

I can't control it, and I don't want to control it.

He wants to firmly grasp the missing part of himself, so he can only keep killing people, and use the pleasure brought by killing to make up for the vacant part of his heart.

kill... kill... kill...

The dreams began to eat away at his brain, accusing him of killing living creatures in real life.

The more the living body struggled, the more excited he was, the more he could feel that a certain vacancy in his heart was filled.

But this is far from enough.

If it's just one time, it can only be satisfied for a week.

A week later, the place in my heart that was supposed to be filled, like a bottomless pit, swallowed up that little bit of satisfaction.

And then there's a bigger hole left, a bigger sense of loss and dissatisfaction.

Just like a drug, it needs to be constantly supplemented with pleasure to make the heart feel less uncomfortable.

The combination of psychology and physiology kept driving him, like a killing machine, he raised his knife and dropped it without blinking an eye.

The dream keeps reappearing every night, and he keeps killing people in dream and reality.

Of course, even if it is murder, as a doctor, Mr. Shen's obsessive-compulsive disorder requires him to make a complete and beautiful cut without leaving ugly wounds.

He became more and more insane, and there was more and more blood on his hands.

In the hospital, on the street, in the shopping mall... as long as he encountered a skeleton that he could barely see through, he would do it.

It was as if the dream had merged with him, and it was hard to let go.

In the end, he couldn't count how many living bodies he had tortured.

He is also more and more immersed in this game, unable to extricate himself.

Until finally, one day, when he looked at the blood on his hands and the meat in the bucket, he suddenly realized that the hole in his heart could no longer be filled.

The joy and excitement of killing people was not what he was looking for in his heart at all.

He just used them as substitutes all the time, numb himself all the time.

But paralysis is always time-sensitive, and even tolerated.

If you use it too much, it won't work.

What does he want?
he does not know.

It was as if the words had come to his lips, but he couldn't say anything.

He knew that what he wanted was neither excitement nor murder.

He didn't want anything, he just wanted the indescribable feeling.

It's like a lost deer in the forest, rampaging around, disturbing other creatures, but still can't find its home.

He couldn't say what he wanted and was tired of the disgusting stimulation.

So, he started to stop, started to force himself not to think about that feeling.

(End of this chapter)